


And Baby Makes Three

by majesticduxk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam, Café, Cuddling, F/M, Family, Implied Underage, Little Spoon Dean, M/M, Mpreg, Possessive Sam, Protective Benny, Protective Sam, Stanford Era, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, book shop, bottom!Dean, hunting au, non graphic mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/pseuds/majesticduxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean didn't know he was a male carrier until he finds himself pregnant the day Sam leaves for Stanford. Although Dean wanted to tell him the truth, and go with him, he loves Sam too much to ruin his life. Having a baby is going to change everything. So he smiles and says he'll be there soon. Instead he runs, settling down in a little town in the middle of nowhere, to build himself a new life. He’s happy enough, working two jobs which indulge his love of pie and new found love of reading, and if he can't quite leave Sam behind yet, that's ok. </p><p>Meanwhile Sam is waiting for Dean, waiting for them to start their new life together. Maybe Dean should have asked Sam what he thought?</p><p> </p><p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	And Baby Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> This is my work for the sam/dean mini bang.
> 
> This has been my first bang, and it's been a pleasure working with [miss_melissa17](http://miss-melissa17.livejournal.com/). She is encouraging, and awesome, and super talented. (links to art when I figure out how to put them in). And special thanks to my beta, [tricksterangelgabriel](http://tricksterangelgabriel.tumblr.com/).
> 
> magnificent art found [here](http://miss-melissa17.livejournal.com/2946.html)!

The double blue stripes signified the change of everything. 

It’s no longer Sam and Dean, the two of them. There’s someone else. Dean was pretty sure he was hyperventilating.

Dean had had no idea he was a carrier. If he’d known, Sam wouldn’t have got his cock anywhere near Dean’s ass. At the very least he’d be a lot more careful about fucking Sam! Of course the kid had Super Sperm. If anything, Dean was lucky it was now, not years ago when Sam really _was_ just a kid. 

But fuck. What was he supposed to do now? Hands ran protectively over his belly. He’d only gone in for an upset stomach…

Doctor Barnes had asked a few questions and given him an exasperated look and a stick to pee on.

“You do know what to do with this, right?” Dean had huffed in annoyance. Incredibly unprofessional, that’s what she was. Teach him to look up former one night stands. But seriously, if anything really _was_ wrong, he had to be sure it wasn’t supernatural, and that really limited who he could see. 

\--

Which was how he found himself in the bathroom at the clinic of a former conquest.

Looking at a stick that showed he was pregnant.

To his brother

He kept the hysterical giggle inside, but it was a close thing. Fuck his life!

There was a sharp rap at the door. “Dean?”

So maybe the giggle hadn’t been as internal as he’d thought. 

“Dean, are you ok.”

“Yeah. Just… just give me a moment.” 

Dean splashed his face with cold water, squared his shoulders, and picked up the offending item. He marched to the door, and opened it. Pamela was there, friendly worry on her face. 

There was still one last chance. It wasn’t as if he’d memorised the correct results…

“So, what are the two blue stripes?”

Strong emotion warred on Pamela’s face, but her face eventually fell into soft, professional lines. 

“Congrats, Dean! You’re gonna be a mommy!”

\--

So here he was. Up the fucking duff to his brother. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t in shock. He fucking well was. He didn’t even know he was a carrier. Wasn’t that something he should know? 

“It’s not so simple with carriers, Dean. Women get their period, so you know they’re fertile. Men… men you can’t tell without a test. Oh they are generally _pretty_ ,” and here she leered at Dean, “but even that doesn’t hold true. Not all pretty men are carriers, and not all carriers are pretty.” 

She shrugged. “Basically you need to get a doctor to check you out. Generally before this point,” she told him with a pointed look. “Still, no use crying over spilt milk! Who’s the baby daddy?”

“Not here,” Dean responded tersely. Okay, so that wasn’t true. Yet. But Dean’d seen the acceptance letter from Stanford. It hurt that Sam hadn’t said anything, but at the same time Dean wasn’t surprised. This was Sammy’s big chance to leave behind the life he hated. And, like it or not, Dean was part of that life. So he’d avoided answering Pamela’s questions (and ignored the sympathetic look in her eye), taken all the information booklets and lied when he said he’d be back for a check-up.

\--

He’d driven around after that. Found himself a car park with few lights, and just lay on Baby’s bonnet, staring at the stars. He didn’t think about anything. Certainly not about the future. The changes were too big. They didn’t feel real. And he wasn’t ready to go back the motel and deal with his dad and brother. Dean snorted. There was a relationship getting worse every day. Dean was so sick of being in the middle. Not for much longer though. Dean sighed at the sky. Sammy would be gone soon, although who knew how that would affect John. 

He rubbed his tummy softly. (Shit! Gotta watch out for that. That could be a tell…) It was still flat. Probably would be for a while, if the doctor was right. When would he show? Six months? Is that what Pamela said? Casting his mind back, all Dean could remember was humiliation.

With a big sigh he heaved himself up. Couldn’t stay out here forever.

\--

The motel room held even less appeal that usual. Dean wasn’t even at the door, and he could hear Sam and John going for it. He rubbed his temples tiredly. He really didn’t feel like playing mediator today, but it was better than the room getting smashed up. 

The sound of something breaking hit him as he opened the front door. 

Smashed up even more, Dean corrected. 

Sam and John were squared off, wearing identical expressions of stubborn anger and frustration. Dean took in the beer on the table, and the Stanford letter in Sam’s hand. 

Ah. 

“Can we discuss this like adults?” Dean asked tiredly. 

John turned on him. “You knew! You fucking knew that your brother was going to leave, and you…”

“Don’t talk to Dean like that!” Sam used his full height to stare down his father. “Dean hasn’t done anything. I didn’t even tell him, he –“

John laughed. “You really think Dean didn’t know.” He gestured towards Dean. “Does he look surprised to you?”

Dean blinked as his family turned and stared at him. His dad’s face was filled with bitter rancour, Sam looked hurt and angry. Dean rubbed his temple again. He really didn’t need this.

“Can we talk about this…”

“I’m leaving tonight, Dean.”

Dean blinked at his brother. Huh? Surely if Sam was just telling them then…

“You walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!”

Sam turned on him. “You think I want to? You think I ever _wanted_ this life? I had no choice _dad_. You dragged two little kids all around the country, messed ‘em up real bad.” Sam laughed bitterly. 

John looked ready to explode. “I did what I thought was best, Sam! When you have kids you’ll…”

Sam interrupted. “Well then, awesome job, dad. We’re fucked for life! Think Dean and I are capable of raising kids after what you did? Fuck, we’d mess ‘em up worse than you!”

Turning on his heel Sam stormed out of the room. Dean blinked. What? That… What…? Sam thought Dean would make a terrible parent? Hadn’t he proved…? Hadn’t he raised Sam…? Hadn’t he…

His inner turmoil was interrupted by his father. “You encouraged this, Dean? This is what you wanted? Your brother to leave?” 

Dean didn’t even have time to defend himself before John slammed out of the house. Dean blinked back tears. How was this _his_ fault? And why was he even crying? He never cried. 

He gathered his reserves, just as Sam stormed back into the room. 

“He’s gone out, Sam.”

Dean said it quietly, hoping to stop Sam’s rage, but it was already too late. “Going to tell me what a bad son I am, Dean. How dad _needs_ me?”

Dean responded tiredly. “Sam, you know we have a job. I can’t…”

“Can’t what? Come with me? He doesn’t need you, Dean. Never needed you. You’re just cannon fodder.”

Well, that was enough.

“Sam. You want out? That’s fine, I knew. It’s no surprise. But don’t you dare talk to me or dad like that! We have a job to do! And not wanting to do it isn’t a good enough reason…”

“Good enough reason to what? To walk away.” Two steps and Sam had pulled Dean roughly into his arms. “You can leave, Dean. Come with me! I have a full ride. We can set up house in Stanford. Get to… get to live the life we’ve always dreamed of!”

Dean shut down at that point. Self-preservation. The life Sam dreamed of had no room for kids, which meant it now had no room for Dean. Dean loved Sam. _He_ had dreamed of their future together. And if kids hadn’t featured… well, dreams were made to crash and burn, he thought bitterly to himself. Dean’s dreams all revolved around Sam, but he couldn’t ruin Sam’s life like that. 

“I can’t go Sammy.” Dean held up a hand to stop the flow of disagreement. “Not yet. I can’t leave dad yet. You… you go get set up. Send me your address, your details. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He paused. Lying hurt. And if this was the last time he was going to see Sam, he didn’t want it to be forever painted with anger. “How… how are you getting there? Bus?” Sam gave a slight nod. “Let me drive you. Do we have enough time to get dinner?”

There was no time. But Sam allowed himself to be herded into the car. Dean even allowed himself to be pushed up against the bus shelter while Sammy laid claim to his mouth, tongue demanding and gaining entrance, while big hands gripped his hips. Dean hoped the bruises would never fade. 

Dean forced a roll of notes on Sam, who scowled at him. “Dean…”

“Take it, Sammy. College is expensive.” Dean gave an easy grin. “And I won’t be looking after you for a couple of months, so you’ll need it.”

Sam gave him a hard look, but eventually nodded. “If you’re not there by the end of October I’m coming for you.”

With an eye roll and one last kiss Dean put Sam on the bus. He stood there til it was out of sight. Stood there, watching the love of his life leave, never to be seen again. 

Snorting, Dean threw himself in the car, angrily wiping away tears. Overdramatic much? Pregnancy hormones must be affecting him already.

\--

Dean stayed with his dad for the next month. But it wasn’t working. There was an ache he couldn’t fill up. Sam was gone. Gone for good. Did Dean ever tell him he loved him? He couldn’t remember, but fuck, it didn’t sound like something he would say…

In the past, this would have sent him on an alcohol fuelled binge, with bonus ‘don’t give a fuck about anyone especially myself’ hunting forays, followed by lots of gratuitous sex. But that’s out of the question. Now he had someone else to look after. And while Dean didn’t _look_ pregnant, he knew he was. 

Someone was growing in him, totally dependent. And that’s really fucking scary. 

Instead of drinking and fucking and killing, he thinks about this baby, and how he is going to raise them. He thinks about his childhood, growing up on the road, slung from motel room to motel room and never a home. Not enough food, no stability, and certainly nothing as extravagant as toys. No way was Dean doing that to his kid. 

There was so much uncertainty. Everything was going to change. But the scariest realisation was that Dean already loved this kid with all his heart.

\--

John noticed of course. Dean wasn’t as willing to throw himself into the job – into _danger_ \- in the same way. He had a little life to protect. That was more important than being some ghosts’ punching bag. (It also made him guiltily reassess his father. How could he have even _contemplated_ raising two little boys on the road, let alone actually doing it?)

\--

John really didn’t like the new Dean. He accused him of being lazy, distracted. Not having his head in the hunt, of fucking up, of not trying. What could Dean say? It was true. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, but it’s where he was. Dean wasn’t ready to desert his father. He could still help. Even if he took less risks, he was still a great hunter, and family was important enough to stay in a situation he loathed. At least for now. 

That lasted until his dad blew up at him. 

\--

“What the fuck happened to you, son?”

Dean stared up at John from his current position, flat on his back from where a poltergeist threw him into the wall. Although he’d had enough time to wrap his arms around his body, protecting his stomach, it’d meant he’d dropped his gun. 

Which meant John had to help Dean. 

\--

Not too much, though. John’s gun hadn’t shifted when he shot it. He hadn’t even checked if Dean was ok, although he’d yelled at Dean until he managed to get himself off the floor. He’d limped to the car, and driven himself back to the hotel. John was already there, well into a bottle of whisky. 

“You’re a fucking liability.”

It wasn’t like the accusation was entirely unexpected. It still hurt to hear. But it was just the start of his dad’s list. Dean was slow. Uncertain. A laughing stock. 

And yep, here it came again. 

A _liability_. 

“You’ve changed, Dean. Get your head back in the game. You either shape up, or ship out.”

Dean eyed his father. Maybe it was the hormones, but he felt a small fire of discontent burning in his belly. He doesn’t _want_ to hunt the way dad wants. He doesn’t _want_ to constantly fear for the small life growing inside him. 

He doesn’t want to continue with this. 

“Guess I’m shipping out then.”

Dean doesn’t know who is more shocked: him or his father. It’s the first time in his life that he’s defied his father. Well, the second. The first being his relationship with Sam, but that was a different sort of defiance… and hopefully one his father would never know about.

So, the first time in his life that he’s _openly_ defied dad. 

John wasn’t speechless for long. 

“You walk out that door, Dean, you’d better not be coming back.”

What the fuck am I meant to do? Dean thought to himself. Not that there was really much question. He turned on his heel, decision made. He doesn’t want to walk out, but there’s no other choice!  
Packing his duffle on automatic, Dean doesn’t even glance around the room: without Sammy it was cold and empty. He won’t miss it. 

Less than a minute and he’s back downstairs. 

Standing in the door way, he shifts uncomfortably. It doesn’t feel right, just leaving. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Dean’s already said goodbye to Sam, so John is pretty much all the family he’s got left. He knew he’d have to leave everyone behind… Except for you, peanut, he thinks at his kid, hand automatically rising to press against his belly. And that’s all he needs to be sure that this is the right thing to do. 

Heaving a sigh he heads back to the kitchen. He can’t leave without a word. It’s the last thing he’ll say to his dad. John sat the table, cleaning the guns. Studiously ignoring Dean.

“Dad?” 

Nothing. Taking a deep breath, Dean straightened his spine. 

“I didn’t want it to happen like this, dad.” 

John tensed at his son’s words. So Dean had planned this? When? For how long? Thinking back, Dean had been off since Sam had left. He hadn’t said anything – that wasn’t Dean’s way – but he’d been getting sloppier and sloppier. John felt angry. He was losing both his boys. Didn’t they understand this was important? That they _needed_ to finish this once and for all?

Dean, however, wasn’t looking at John. His eyes were on his feet as he tried to explain. “Things change, dad. It’s not always what we expect, but, y’know, you gotta roll with the punches. And… and right now I can’t do this.” 

He did look up then. John was still cleaning the guns. He felt his guts tighten. So it really was goodbye. 

“Stay safe, dad.”

Dean paused. He doesn’t know what else to say. If John would just make some sort of indication… 

Silence. 

Sadly, Dean turned away, making his way to the front door. Picking up his duffle, he rests his head on the door a moment. He has to do this.

He whispers “Love you, dad,” before squaring his shoulders, and opening the door, marching towards the impala. He doesn’t have a plan. But he’s going to need to come up with one and soon. 

He’s a family man now. 

\--

John paused, placing the gun on the table. He listened as Dean started the car, tracking the sound of tire on gravel until he can’t hear anything else. 

“Fuck!” 

Pushing back from the table, John jumped to his feet. What the fuck happened? Never, _never_ would he have imagined Dean walking out! And why? Because things had _changed_? What did that even mean? It must be Sam though. That’s it… John felt himself calm. Dean was heading towards Sam. Sam had turned his back on the hunt, on him and Dean, but Dean had always needed his brother. He’d give it a few weeks, then go check on the boys, see if Dean was ready to come back. 

Decision made, John sat and continued cleaning the guns. 

\--

It had been a long month, and Sam missed Dean like he was missing a limb. Or an organ. Something vital. College… wasn’t quite what he imagined. It’s not that there was anything _wrong_ with it. On the surface it was everything he’d ever dreamed of: intellectual people and mental stimulation. _Normality_. He was the typical freshman: parties, school, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. 

And he hated it. 

He hated every fucking minute of it. 

Even now, sitting on a couch at some party his roommate had dragged him to, he hated it.

“Come on, Sam!” Brady had begged. “You can’t stop partying in the first month! You’re a fresman. And Jess’ll be there.” 

Brady dangled Jess like a carrot before him. Sam had eventually agreed. Not because of Jess (although Brady’s smirk indicated otherwise), but because he couldn’t deal with Brady’s complaints until the next party. He may as well go, because once he got Dean back, he wasn’t sure they’d ever leave his room.

So here he was. Sitting on a couch, surrounded by drunken students. And he didn’t care. He didn’t even -

“…want to be here, huh?” 

Sam jumped, spilling his beer down his front, as a voice bellowed in his ear. 

“Fuck, Jess!” Sam glared at her, wiping himself off as best he could. 

She simply smiled a Cheshire cat grin at him. “You’re looking way too serious for a party, Sam. Now you fit in!” 

He considered being angry, but laughed instead. Jess was like that. A genuinely friendly and funny person. If he didn’t have Dean, well… it didn’t really matter, because he _did_ have Dean.

“I’d love to talk.” He yelled at her. “But can’t hear a…”

Her grin turned impish, and grabbing his hand she dragged him through the writhing masses, before stopping at a door he hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance around, and it was open and she was pushing him through. 

Shit! Sam thought. Jess was nice but that didn’t mean he wanted to hang in a bedro… patio?

It was a nice little space. A few chairs, a small couch. Minibar and a table. If Jess had been angling for sex, this wasn’t ideal.

“Here.” She threw a dishcloth at him. “Since I got you all wet, the least I can do is help to clean up.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

She grabbed a couple of beers from the minibar, handing one to him before throwing herself down on the couch. He continued to dab at his shirt, a little unsure of what to say. Luckily, Jess had no problems. 

“My friends are trying to set me up with you too.”

“Ah.”

“And you’re a nice guy and all Sam… but not my type.”

Even though he wasn’t at all interested, it hurt his pride a little. 

“Oh? And what is your type?”

She snorted inelegantly. “I want someone who likes doing things! A shark, not an oyster.” Grinning at Sam’s look she tried again. “How about a tiger, not a pussy cat?” 

Sam never really considered how he came across. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He took a long pull at his beer. A pussy cat, huh? Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone. And it was better than an oyster. 

Sam didn’t want anyone to notice him. He was attempting to blend in with a life he hated. It was unfair, really. Instead of living what was meant to be the _dream_ , he was pining, willing to trade it all in for Dean. He scowled slightly, thinking of his brother. Time was going way too slowly. Why wasn’t it October yet?

Jess’s voice pulled him out of his dark musings. 

“So why don’t you want a hot piece of ass like me?”

Sam choked on his beer. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve, he couldn’t believe her cheek. “Excuse me?”

Jess grinned. “So you are listening. I’m not offended. It makes things easier. Just wondering…”

Sam shrugged and answered. “I have someone.”

Jess whistled. “Really? Who’s the lucky girl? Do I know her?”

“Dean. And no. You don’t know him.”

Jess eyed him for a moment. “Really? I’ve never heard of this _Dean_ of yours.” The implication clear: If Jess didn’t know, then _no one_ knew. “If everyone knew you had a partner, you wouldn’t be hit on all the time.” Jess suddenly sat upright. “You don’t talk about him because you’re ashamed to date a guy? Because that’s just dis…”

“Of course that’s not why,” Sam overrode her angrily. “I don’t talk about him because I miss him so fucking much. I miss him enough every fucking day without making it worse by talking about how much I miss him.” That was more than Sam meant to say. He took a deep breath. “I can hold out until he gets here. I knew I’d be here a few months. But I don’t need to talk about it. With anyone,” he added pointedly.

He avoided Jess’s eye. Jess was looking at him thoughtfully. “Huh. Maybe not such a pussy cat.” 

Growing weary of the conversation, Sam skulled his beer. “Thanks for the chat, Jess. See you round, yeah?”

Turning on his heel, he stalked towards the door. He didn’t need this shit. Fuck Brady. Fuck the whole…

“Sam! Wait.”

What the hell did she want now? But… Dean had raised him right. He was a gentleman. He stopped, although he didn’t turn around. 

“We could help each other.”

Unable to control his snort of laughter, Sam turned to face her. “How?”

Licking her lips nervously, Jess eyed the man in front of her. His body was tensed with rejection.

“I have someone too,” she offered. “They can’t be here right now, and I am getting really sick of helpful friends trying to fill my lonely life. I figure, let’s just pretend. Then people will leave us both alone.”

“That still means I have to spend time with you,” Sam observed wryly. 

Ouch. Jess winced. Sam definitely pulled no punches. 

“Sure, but I can guarantee it will be more fun than your roommates harassing you. Sam. C’mon,” she wheedled. “We’ll do coffee a couple of times a week. We’ll hang out, but no one else needs to know it’s a study date. It’ll work!”

Sam considered. Then shrugged. Why not if it would get Brady off his back…

“But as soon as Dean gets here, you get dumped.”

A petulant expression crossed Jess’s face. “Why can’t I dump you?”

Sam just laughed. She had a tenacity he could respect. 

“I don’t care who dumps who, but fair warning. The minute I see Dean, our romantic association ends.”

He didn’t leave her a chance to come back to that. 

“Wow…” Jess breathed at his retreating back. “What a hardass.”

\--

Much to Sam’s surprise the next few months passed quickly. 

Jess was actually a lot of fun. He found out he was right – under different circumstances they could have got together. As it was he got a fun friend, who kept the rest of his house off his back. And he did the same. 

They’d done the required coffee dates, and study group, and Sam had voluntarily gone to the movies, and been her plus one at a friend’s engagement. 

It had been good. Until September. When the comments started up. 

“I broke up with Ruby. The long distance wasn’t working for us.”

“She said she’d be here. Just like Dean, really. So when’s he s’posed to be here?”

“Ruby didn’t care, but she at least called. Has Dean ever called?”

“You know, we actually work pretty well together. And we’ve both been dumped. You know we could…”

Thank fuck it was October. 

Dean should be arriving any time now. 

\--

Sam knew he was bad company. He’d been getting surlier and surlier as the month progressed. 

Jess had tried to tease him out of it, but he could barely tolerate her. She’d finally given up on the heavy handed comments, but he had no time for her games. Where the fuck was Dean? They’d agreed on October. And here it was: the 31st. 

And no Dean. 

\--

Sam’d been staring at his phone all day. 

It was now 11.59 and there was no Dean. 

The clock ticked over. 

\--

Dean had been on the road for weeks. Just driving around, trying to figure out what to do. He had wanted to settle somewhere sooner, but he had itchy feet. Vaguely he recognised that he was upset. He’d never had healthy ways of dealing with his emotions. The only one safe for the baby was the one he took: he ignored it. But it wasn’t working so well. Chasing a blank mind had lead him nowhere, and now he had actual real life things to deal with. Like finding somewhere to live. At five months he _needed_ to stop. It was more than half way through his pregnancy, and he and peanut needed a home.

Which is how he found himself in a small town. And it really was, the sign coming into the main street proclaimed “Lindstone. A Small Town.”

He wasn’t intending to stay. He wasn’t even intending to stop. It was just another place on his way to nowhere. But he was starving. Or the peanut was starving. Which meant Dean needed food, and he’d never been anywhere that didn’t have a diner. Lindstone was no exception. There it was, right on main street. Even if it called itself a _café_. 

Dean walked in on rush hour. There was a cook in the kitchen, and another man behind the counter. Dean had snickered as counter boy’s face had paled, scanning the busy room for an empty table. Dean just waved a hand, ready to wait until a table was clear. 

Which took 45 minutes. Fidgeting impatiently, Dean wondered who took that long for lunch? It wasn’t even like he could blame the staff. They’d both worked as hard as they could, bussing tables, taking orders, cooking up a steam. Just, no one had left until there was some invisible sign, and then all the tables cleared at once. The timing was perfect – perfectly terrible – to hear the fearsome growl of Dean’s stomach. The only saving grace was there was only staff present. 

Counter boy hid a snicker behind his hand, while the cook came out the kitchen.

“Sound a bit hungry there, brother.”

Dean’s heart lurched: brother. He’d never have a brother again. But with the ease of years of experience, he shook off the heartache. 

“Just a bit.” He offered a smirk. “Don’t s’pose there’s anything left after the hoards.”

The chef gave him the once over, and seemed to nod to himself. “Sit down. You look like you could take a load off. I’ll get you some pie – it’s ready – and cook you up a burger.”

Dean couldn’t help the real smile that lit up his face. “My favourites! And I’ll have a coff… I’ll have a…” 

He trailed off. He wasn’t sure what to drink. He figured he had so many bad habits, giving up coffee and alcohol was the least he could do. He hadn’t found anything else he liked though.

“I’ll bring you pie, and how about some of the sweet tea? It’s pretty popular round here?”

Dean nodded his thanks. Tea. Fucking tea. He’d turned into a tea drinker! Wouldn’t Sam laugh if he knew. 

Sam. 

For three months he’d kept thoughts of Sam at bay. It wasn’t worth lying to himself though: that’s what the running had been about. Trying to stay ahead of his thoughts of Sam. But they’d been knocking on his neural pathways for a while, and now they’d caught up with him, well, it didn’t matter where he settled down. 

Heaving a sigh, Dean noticed there was pie in front of him. A quick glance showed the cook to still be standing there. It smelt so fucking good. But he was so hungry… there was no way he could eat elegantly…

“Dig in, brother.”

Dean didn’t need another invitation. He was starving, it smelt fine, and tasted…

“Fuck! This is the best pie I’ve had in years!”

The cook had a satisfied look. 

“On the house, brother.”

No. Dean couldn’t deal with that anymore. 

“Dean.”

He got a quizzical look in response, so he just repeated. “I’m Dean.”

He got a hand in return. “Benny. Now you just eat that pie, _Dean_ ,” and yeah, Dean noticed the slight emphasis, “And I’ll be back with your burger and fries. Remember to try the tea,” Benny casually tossed over his shoulder as he worked away. 

Counter boy was there with the tea. 

“Benny must really like you!”

“Huh?”

Counter boy made a face at him, and yeah, maybe Dean could have swallowed before speaking, but he was fucking starving!

“Benny’s nice to everyone, but not always friendly.”

Dean paused. Fuck. He hoped Benny wasn’t being swayed by his awesome good looks. The delicate scent of beef patties filled the air. Surreptitiously, Dean wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. 

“What’s your name anyway?”

Counter boy blinked at him. 

“I can’t keep calling you counter boy!” A sound suspiciously like a chuckle sounded from the kitchen. 

“Samandrial.”

Samandrial? That was a freaking mouthful. Samandrial seemed to understand, as he offered, “But I like people to call me Alfie. Ah – Benny!” Samm- Alfie – turned his head towards the kitchen. “I have to go now. Remember I’m away for the weekend too.”

“I know, sugar. I’ll see you next week.”

Dean slowed down, making the pie last until Benny came walking out, a full plate of burger and thick cut fries.

“Oh. My. God.”

A quick glance at Benny’s open smile, and Dean grabbed the burger. The first bite and juices dribbled down his chin. He quickly gathered them on his thumb, and licked. And moaned. 

“So fucking good!”

Benny grinned at him. 

“So what you doing traveling through Lindstone, bro – cher?”

Dean chewed a moment. He could deal with _cher_. It didn’t feel like Benny was hitting on him, but Dean was too tired to play games. 

“You’re not hitting on me, right?”

The man blinked at him, before throwing back his head and laughing. 

“No, no, not at all.”

“It’s just Sam – Alfie,” thank god Samandrial didn’t want to be called Sam! Dean didn’t think he could deal with that, “said you weren’t, uh, _friendly_ to everyone.”

Benny gave him a shrug. “You remind me of someone. So, you just passin’ through?”

Dean looked around. Maybe it was fate that brought him to the best pie and burgers he’d had since he couldn’t remember when. 

“Maybe…”

Benny pulled up a chair. “Maybe I can help you out, bro – che - _Dean_.”

Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What’s Lindstone like?”

Benny had a lot to say on the matter. And at the end of the conversation, Dean had an apartment to view and an offer to work a morning and lunch rush shift at the diner - _café_. As Dean was blinking at his good luck, there was the chime of bells and another man entered the shop. Benny looked up, and at his big grin, Dean turned around to look as well. 

“Castiel! How are you, brother?”

The man – Castiel, who the hell was naming people in this town? – just nodded. 

“I’d like the pastries please.”

“Sure thing, Cas.” 

With a smile at Dean, Benny heaved himself up, walking to the counter before he picked up a box. Pausing he glanced at Castiel. 

“I thought Gabe picked up the pastries?”

Castiel frowned. “Gabriel has agreed to stop working, for the present. He hasn’t been well, and the doctor told him not to push himself.”

Benny’s fingers drummed the box. 

“Benny, could you release my pastries? I don’t want them getting damaged.”

With a slight flush, Benny handed the pastries over. 

“So you’d have a job going then?”

Castiel blinked. He hadn’t actually thought that far. His brain had processed a lack of pastries, and his body moved automatically to acquire them. 

“Yes.”

Benny’s face split in a grin. “Then it just happens, brother, that Dean here needs a job.”

Dean jumped at his name. What? No… he couldn’t take any more help from the man. 

“Benny… no, man. I can’t ask you to do that.”

Castiel turned serious blue eyes on him. “I don’t understand. You didn’t ask him to do anything? However he is correct. I do require assistance.”

“But I work through the lunch shift at Benny’s.” Dean could hear the weakness in his voice. A house and two jobs? He could save up for when Peanut came. It would be hard… but he’d lived life much harder. 

Shrugging, Castiel replied, “Then eat lunch after your shift, and when you finish bring the pastries. I own the book shop - _Dog Eared Pages_ a few doors down.” Castiel seemed to think for a minute before adding, “You would get an employee’s discount as well.”

Despite his uncertainty, Dean felt his face brighten. He’d never had a chance to really read. They’d moved around so much, and he’d had so many responsibilities. Books had never been on the list of priorities. No one knew, but in his duffle there was an old, dog eared copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_. Maybe he could do this. 

“Why… why don’t we have a trial? Give it a week, and if it works, I’ll keep on.”

Castiel acquiesced. After establishing that Dean would need a few days to settle into the new house, Castiel retrieved the pastries and left. 

Dean eyed Benny. “Pastries?”

With a grin, Benny explained that Castiel’s partner had a sweet tooth, so they’d come to an agreement when Benny first started the café. 

Dean licked his lips. “Do you already send over pie?”

\--  
12.01am. November one. 

It was November. 

It was fucking November and there was no Dean. 

I knew I should have made him come, Sam thought furiously to himself.

Loyalty. It was both Dean’s strength and his weakness. No, his loyalty wasn’t a weakness – his _torn_ loyalty was a weakness. John used Dean. John didn’t appreciate Dean. He sure as hell didn’t love Dean, not the way Sam did. Which was a lucky thing really. Father or not, Sam was sure he would kill _anyone_ who had designs on his brother. 

The radio silence should have been a giveaway. Dean _never_ did that. Sam had just been too busy _getting through_ to really put it all together. Dean had left him to his white bread, normal life. And that was all well and good, except that Sam didn’t want this life. This life had a huge Dean shaped hole in it. 

The question was what to do. Sam sat on it for a few weeks, hoping that either Dean would come or he’d think of _something_. But his mind was blank. He didn’t _know_ what to do. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – ring John. 

And he’d had to deal with life – with studies, and work, and _Jess_.

They’d even had a… well, not an argument. Sam didn’t care enough for it to be an argument, but a mild disagreement about a Halloween Party. Jess had wanted him to go. And Sam wasn’t going. Either Dean was going to turn up, or he wasn’t. And either way, Sam had no intention of spending his time around drunk wastes of space. Jess had turned up in her nurses’ outfit, shocked when Sam sent her packing. Shocked and pissed off. Sam didn’t know why. Despite Jess’s increasingly obvious advances, Sam had never changed his stance on Dean. 

Dean.

Sam had sat in the dark, thinking about Dean. How if he turned up, they would have a _very_ happy reunion in Sam’s bed (followed by some stern words about acceptable behaviour). And if he didn’t? Sam would have to hunt him down for that conversation, have a stern conversation about acceptable behaviour and _then_ have their happy reunion. 

That night the hours ticked by, the longer the list of Dean’s infractions got, the longer the list of requirements got, ranging from ‘indicating that you are going to return to your lover when you have no intention’, to ‘required to stay in touch’, to ‘do not make my decisions for me’. 

\--

By the time morning arrived, Dean hadn’t shown. Jess did. Unhappy, angry and hungover making little comments about fucking everything. He’d let it go, she was upset. Even without Dean, Sam mused, it was time to ‘break up’ with Jess. 

She started up on the dating for real, getting progressively bitchier as he refused to entertain the thought. 

“So it’s now, what? Middle of November? Where’s your precious Dean?”

She didn’t get the hint. Sam was done. 

“I don’t get it, Sam. We are good together. Great even, and all you can do is moon about your…”

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Jess.” Sam threw his pen down. All their study sessions were now taken up with arguing. “You knew from the start I wasn’t boyfriend material. I already have one!” Sam’s face creased into frown as a new thought crossed his mind. Maybe something had happened to Dean? Maybe it wasn’t Dean just being self-sacrificing?

“That’s right. The mythical _Dean_ , destined to turn up with the pumpkins.” Jess snorted. “Look how that’s worked for you.”

The doorbell rang. Luckily for Jess, as it saved her from the worst of Sam’s tongue. 

Wondering, hoping for Dean, Sam marched himself to the front door. 

Only to be met with the only person he wanted to see less than Jess.

“What do you want?”

The words were out before he could help himself. They weren’t strong and assertive, the way they were meant to be. Instead they were petulant and childish. And going by his father’s raised eyebrows he thought the same. 

“Where’s Dean.”

What?

Sam couldn’t even respond. He saw his shock mirrored on his father’s face, as John realised Sam had no idea. 

“Sam?”

“I… Dad, I haven’t seen him or heard from him since the day I left.” Since the day you told me never to come back, he added silently. While part of him wanted to rant and rage at his father, a bigger part knew it might need his help to find Dean.

\--

Not that he didn’t get the opportunity to yell. After ushering Jess out of the house with a ‘this is my dad, it’s important, bye’, despite his best intentions Sam turned all his impotent rage on his father.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him for months? Fuck, dad! Did you kick him out too?”

John snarled back. “His head wasn’t in the game, son. He’d gone soft and it was dangerous for the both of us. I assumed he was missing you, and he came here when he left.” John shrugged. “Thought I’d give him a few months to get sick of you then come and pick him up, ready for the hunt again.”

Sam couldn’t stop the bitch face. “What makes you think he’d get sick of this? Not everyone wants to stay in a different motel every other night, never having a home, or stability, or friends. Fuck! It’s no life for anyone!”

Sam’s rage was old. He was still angry at John. John was still angry at Sam. Nothing had been resolved in their time apart. But still, for his brother’s sake Sam was prepared to put aside their differences and search with his father. 

They both wanted to find him. Sam _needed_ to find him. 

But his dad stopped him dead. “Stay here. You’re out of condition and a liability. I’ll make sure Dean calls you when I find him.”

Sam couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “And what if I find him first? And what if he wants to stay with me? What if he wants to give up hunting. He’s a human being! Not your good little soldier!” By the end Sam was shouting.

John gave him a steady look. 

“I’ll get him to call you.”

And he left. 

With a cry of rage Sam kicked the kitchen table, ignoring the books that went crashing to the floor. Dean, he thought. Where are you?

\--

Time goes fast, Dean mused as he woke in his little apartment. Bringing his hand to his face, he quickly scrubbed away the tear tracks that seemed to appear there daily. Taking a deep breath he looked around, basking in the comfort his little home brought. It was cosy, although the bed was big enough for three. He’d even made efforts to decorate with a few posters on the wall. And a bookshelf full of books. Dean even owned a food processor and roasting pan for fuck’s sake. 

Fuck! Dean realised with a jolt. He was nesting. He was fucking _nesting_ , creating the home he’d never had. That he wanted peanut to have. He knew it was normal, but still felt the flush of embarrassment. Throwing back the blankets, he headed to the shower, needing to clear his head and give himself the daily pep talk. 

It’s ok to miss Sam, he told himself as the hot water hit his body.

It’s ok to accept help from Benny and Cas. They were friends as well as his bosses. 

It’s ok to nest. Soon he was going to be a daddy, and he wanted his kid to have a happy home. And a happy kid needed a happy parent. Dean had learnt that lesson well. 

It’s ok to be happy. It’s ok to be happy. It bore repeating.

Groaning, he rested his head against the wall, just standing under the water stream. The problem was, he _wasn’t_ happy. He missed Sam. He still missed Sam! Every day and every night. Why couldn’t he just… file it all into the Do Not Open box in his brain? His dad was pretty firmly stuffed in there. Sam should be too! It wasn’t fair. 

Briefly Dean toyed with the idea of calling Bobby, to find out if his family was ok. But if anyone _was_ actually looking for him, Bobby would be the first port of call. Unsure what to do, Dean decided to stuff the thoughts back in the Do Not Open box. A few days weren’t going to make a difference. 

Turning off the water he gave a decisive nod. No point wallowing in the past. 

As he reached for his towel, he caught sight of his reflection. Ah… another thing to add to the morning list. It’s ok for his body to change. 

Turning on the side, he had a soft little belly now. Just pudge really. He didn’t look pregnant. He just looked a little… _softer_. Laughing wryly, he remembered his panicked rush to the doctors, only to be assured that male carriers rarely showed until the last month of pregnancy. And even then it wasn’t big. Which definitely wasn’t what he remembered Pamela saying… 

Still. Time passed too quickly. Only six weeks now, and Dean still hadn’t told Benny or Cas. He’d need time off at least…

But he’d think about that later. Because right now? Right now things were ok. As long as he ignored the Sam factor (and if at night he dreamt of he and Sam, living here, working, raising their child, well, it was easy enough to wipe the tears away in the morning and forget it had ever happened). Even missing Sam, Dean felt _settled_ for the first time he could remember. He had, thanks to Benny, an actual home. Something he’d never let himself dream of. Hell, he even had friends, even though he worked with them. 

“Enough thinking, Winchester,” he told his reflection. “You have wages to earn. And maybe a nursery to start painting…”

\--

He could do what he wanted with the apartment. Benny was his landlord, and had given him free reign. Even with that permission, he hadn’t done much baby wise. He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t talk about it. And now so long had passed, he didn’t know how to bring it up now. Not even to Benny, someone Dean now considered a friend.

After the initial hesitancy regarding Benny’s intentions, Dean found himself liking the man. Considered him a friend, and a good friend. Even if the friendship was… complicated. At least on Dean’s side. Benny was a recent divorcee, who never saw his kids. His former husband, Andrew, sounded like a vindictive bastard. But hearing about how his partner left, how Benny missed his kids… it made Dean question himself. It made him think of Sam, and worry about his choice. Was Dean being vindictive by not allowing Sam to know? But Sam… Sam didn’t want kids. And Sam wanted a normal life. 

Dean had mostly managed to convince himself he was doing the right thing. But it was a daily battle. It wasn’t as if he didn’t _want_ Sam around. That’s what all those dreams were about! A family. His family. Dean’s hand tightened over his belly. Well, he still had family. Just not the expected one.

And Benny was talkative. _Very_ talkative. While Dean said as little about himself as possible, he couldn’t say _nothing_. So he stuck to the basics, saying only that his partner walked out on him, and while it wasn’t the whole truth, it was true enough. Both being dumped gave them something to bond over. Unfortunately, Benny saw Dean as a brother in arms, and became much more forthcoming about his relationship with Andrew. Dean knew it was partly because Benny wanted Dean to open up (and no fucking way was that happening), but it was mainly because Benny still hurt so much. Rather than let the anger and sadness and fear fester, he ripped the scab off every day. Something Dean could learn from. Maybe. 

So Dean listened, and soothed, and avoided answering pretty much everything. And made himself a friend.

\--

Dean’d been staring into space for 10 minutes now, rubbing the same spot on the counter. It’s not that they’re busy – they’re not. But this was becoming a more and more common occurrence. Benny had first noticed it when he talked about Andrew. He’d then ask about Dean’s partner, and Dean would… zone out. There’d be a look of longing on his face. Despite Dean’s assurances that his partner was well out of the picture, Benny wasn’t so sure.

And Dean’s pregnant. He hasn’t said anything, and even if the rest of the world was blind, Benny was not. Benny had been subtly trying to find out what was going on. Because male carriers looked no different. Until they’re pregnant. Then they may as well wear the red ‘P’. 

Benny didn’t want to force information from Dean, but he wanted to reassure him he wasn’t alone. So Benny talked around the subject as much as he could. He looked after Dean as much as a friend could – set him up with the apartment (well, it had been sitting empty. And if he chose to rent it for a little less than it was worth, well, who was going to argue with the landlord?) He’d even organised for Dean to work at Castiel’s bookshop in the afternoons. 

That had been a stroke of pure genius. And luck, he admitted grudgingly. Castiel needed the help, Dean needed the money, and… ok, Benny was projecting. Andrew hadn’t taken well to pregnancy, he’d been tired and angry, and needed help. But the moment he’d laid eyes on Dean he’d seen the same look. 

Of course, Dean was very different to Andrew. Dean worked hard, and he had an unwavering need to prove himself worthwhile. Benny idly wondered where that need came from, because it wasn’t healthy. It was almost pathological. And Dean was incapable of staying still. It was like he was missing something. 

Or someone. 

Benny didn’t want to get in Dean’s business. He really didn’t. That never led to good things. But he was worried. And the way Dean spoke about his partner – former partner – lead Benny to believe it wasn’t as cut and dried as he and Andrew. 

So Benny watched and worried and waited.

\--

Dean called goodbye and grabbed the pastry box on his way out. He was glad to be leaving. It’d been a bad day. Not _bad_ bad, after all, no one had tried to murder or maim him. But he’d just felt off. He knew he wasn’t doing his work, and although Benny had offered to let him go home early, Dean didn’t feel like being alone. So as soon as he was done he was out the door, and on to the next job. 

Castiel was an easy going boss. Weird. Very weird. But interesting. The books that Cas stocked the shelves with? Well, they just brought Dean joy. He loved opening the boxes, seeing what delights awaited the reading population of Lindstone. And when he wasn’t stacking shelves, or helping customers, or manning the till, he was curled up reading in one of the big chairs placed randomly around the shop. As long as he jumped up when the bell over the door rang, Castiel was actually cool with him reading.

When he’d questioned Castiel on it, his response was weird. As usual. 

“You’re like a cat. People like cats. Did you know there are bookstores which keep real cats? It is soothing to the customers.”

\--

That afternoon Dean was more like a monkey. Scaling the ladder, he had a box of books precariously balanced. Less precariously than himself as it happens. Somehow he… fell? Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what happened. One moment his at the top of a ladder, the next thing he knows he’s on the floor with big strong arms wrapped around him, and someone sounding worried talking in his ear. Worried about him?

“Sam?”

The shadowy figure kept talking. 

“Cher! Are you ok?”

Dean blinked until the shadowy form coalesced into something more solid. It wasn’t Sam, it was Benny.

It wasn’t Sam. 

Dean blinked again, this time clearing the tears from his eyes. Sam… he missed Sam so much. Benny’s hand still stroking soothingly through his hair just made it worse.

“You’re ok, cher? Can you talk to me? Are you ok?”

Of course he was ok. He was Dean Winchester. He pushed himself into a half sitting position, Benny’s arms fluttering around him. He pushed them away. 

“I’m fine, Benny. Don’t need to act like a mother hen.”

Lips pursed, Benny observed him closely, before turning to Castiel, who was also there. So everyone who employed him had witnessed his humiliating fall? Just great. 

Avoiding all eye contact, Dean slowly pushed himself to his feet, hands instinctively cradling his belly. He staggered off towards to the storeroom, intent on just getting away from everyone, when Benny’s hand came down on his shoulder. 

“Where are you going, cher?”

Dean shook the hand off. “Just out back got things to do.”

Benny and Castiel exchanged looks. 

“Dean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” As Dean went to interrupt, Castiel continued over him. “At least sit down and make sure you’re ok. Not dizzy.”

It wasn’t like he could argue with that. Dean resentfully went and sat in one of the reading chairs. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was remarkably pain free for a fall… Oh no. 

“Oh yes.” Damn, Dean must have spoken aloud. “It was just good timing, Dean,” Benny told him softly. “You were slumping as I came in. I didn’t think I’d get to you in time…” 

There’s a thoughtful pause. Benny knows he shouldn’t do this. He also knows that he almost had a heart attack. Nodding determinedly, he turns to Castiel. 

“So no more letting the pregnant man up the ladder anymore.”

“What!” The two speak in tandem, Castiel mild and surprised, Dean shocked and angry. 

“Oh, cher.” Benny looks at Dean sadly. “I have two kids. That’s watching Andrew through two pregnancies. I know the signs.”

Dean shifted under the kind expression, only to find himself pinned by Castiel’s intense eyes. 

“Uh… Cas?”

Castiel blinked. “I’m sorry, Dean. My partner is also pregnant, but I hadn’t noticed anything different… I didn’t notice,” he offered apologetically.

Dean’s had enough. “What, you just thought I was fat?”

Unintentionally Castiel’s eyes are drawn to Dean’s soft belly. 

“I hadn’t really thought about it…”

“Well think about it now,” Benny commanded. “He can’t be climbing ladders anymore.”

“Now wait a goddamn minu…”

“It’s ok, Dean. That isn’t really why I hired you. It was an added bonus. As is your easy manner with customers and love of books.”

Well if those were the added bonuses… 

Castiel answered Dean’s unspoken question. “You bring the pastries from the café.”

Dean was flabbergasted. “You hired me to _bring the pastries_? Cas, it would be cheaper to get them couriered!”

\--

Benny sat at his desk. He had a name now. Dean’s response when waking had been to call for this man – Sam. The zoning out was one thing. Benny had been worried, but let it go, just keeping a closer eye on him. Dean wouldn’t accept help easily, but the passing out on top of the ladder…? Benny felt like had to do _something_. 

A little bit of soul searching (but not too much. Benny’d been thinking of it for a while), and Benny decided Dean needs more _active_ help. Benny doesn’t want to become romantically entangled with Dean (although he’s not blind. Dean was a fine looking man), he just wanted to help his friend.

He knew it might be the end of their friendship, but he had to do it. If their situations were reversed, if Andrew wanted him… well, he’d be grateful and back in a heartbeat. And based on his intuition, things weren’t over with Sam. Going over the few things Dean had let slip, Benny started looking. 

\--

It was easier than he thought. Without knowing Sam’s last name, Benny went for _Winchester_. Reasoning that there wouldn’t be too many Sam Winchesters at Stanford Law School. Benny was right. A few favours called in, and he had a number in front of him. 

Huffing to himself, Benny resolutely picked up the phone. Well, no time like the present.

\--

“Hello, this is Benny Lafitte. Am I speaking with Sam Winchester? I’m calling about your ex-partner. Who?” Benny’s eyes narrowed, and he struggled to contain his rising anger. “Dean. _Dean Winchester_. 

\--

Sam couldn’t breathe. 

Since seeing his dad, he’d put out feelers, calling in all the favours he could. And no one - _no one_ \- had heard from Dean. And now this? To have some stranger call up to ask about Dean? While all he wanted to do is beg for information, he couldn’t. Not yet. It could be a trap.

“And this is your business, how?”

Sam could feel the anger crackling down the line. 

“Dean was recently injured…”

Sam’s mind raced. Was he still hunting? If he was, how had no one heard of him? Was this his new partner?

“Benny Lafitte, you said. How exactly do you know Dean?”

\--

Benny simmered. Fair enough, this Sam didn’t know him, but he didn’t seem overly concerned about Dean either. 

“I’m Dean’s boss. I was calling to tell you Dean was hurt – not badly – at his other job today. Happily he and the baby are fine, but I shouldn’t have called you. Don’t worry Mr Winchester, it won’t happen again. “

Fucking condescending ass. Sam was so enraged by hearing this other man even say Dean’s _name_ he didn’t hear it all. 

“Now wait a minute, what are you doing with Dean anyway? And what gives you the right to judge me? You have _no idea_ what went on…”

“What I know,” Benny raised his voice, drowning out Sam, “is that I sure as hell wouldn’t run out on my pregnant partner, and I don’t know why I thought ringing you would make a difference.”

Benny paused, waiting for a response. There was only silence. 

\--

Pregnant? Dean was pregnant? Little things started to make sense. Dean being a little more clingy before he left, and he’d actually seen tears in Dean’s eyes the night he’d left for Stanford. Sam had just put that down to Dean’s weird sixth sense where Sam was concerned. And then there was the way he’d totally rejected him. Why? Why had he done that? Why had… Oh fuck. Sam was cursed (or blessed depending on how you looked it) with virtually perfect recall. He rarely forgot anything. He certainly hasn’t forgotten informing their dad how fucked he and Dean were as parents.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Dean, his beautiful, self-sacrificing, stubborn _idiot_ of a brother wouldn’t have seen it was just anger. He would have taken it to heart, deciding _for Sam_ that Sam didn’t want kids, so he’d taken the option away. 

He’d given Sam his chance at a normal life. 

“Stubborn fucking _idiot_!” Sam had forgotten Benny was on the phone. He was quickly reminded as he heard the slight growl on the other end. 

“Ah.” There was a long pause. “You didn’t know.”

Benny didn’t know what to do. Dean hadn’t _said_ anything, which meant what exactly?

“Where exactly are you,” Sam barked into the phone. 

\--

It wasn’t easy getting the information out of Benny. Although he’d refused to give out Dean’s home address (and ok, Sam could respect that, even as he wanted to tear the other man limb from limb for knowing things about Dean that he didn’t), he’d gotten a town name and the address of Benny’s restaurant. It was a start. 

Returning to his room, Sam had only one goal: retrieve his wayward brother. All thoughts of Stanford were gone. 

Bag packed in less than 20 minutes, Sam looked around the room. Clothes, law books, student posters… the trappings of college life. There was nothing here he wanted. His heart was already in Lindstone, three days drive away. It’s going to take him three days to get Dean. Sam doesn’t know if he wants to fuck him or strangle him. At least he’ll have time to thank about it. 

Jess, however had a different idea. She also had a weird sixth sense when it came to Sam. As he exited his building, there she was. Arms folded, leaning against her car, staring as he walked out the door. 

“Not even a good bye.”

It’s statement more than question. Hefting his bag, Sam sighed. “Look, you always knew I was all about Dean. Now I know where he is, and I need to go to him.”

Laughing bitterly, Jess sneered at him. “Well, Sam. He may be the love of your life, but are you his? After all, he didn’t come see you, who’s to say he hasn’t found someone else?”

Sam willed himself to not touch her. Even one tiny movement in her direction, and he didn’t know if he could stop himself from harming her. He was too angry, on edge already. Taking a deep breath, he forced his muscles to relax. 

“I don’t know what this is about, Jess. We always agreed we were just covering for each other, and as soon as I had Dean we’d break up. So I don’t know what the whole mistreated girlfriend thing is about.”

Jess just glared at him. To reveal now she never had another person, and had been playing Sam, hoping to win him over… well, that _wasn’t_ going to win points. She’d hoped that when the time came and went and she was still there and Dean wasn’t…

Whatever. Hopeless case. She should have known. 

“Whatever, Sam. Good luck with _Dean_.”

Sam didn’t even deign to answer. And like that, she was out of his life and mind. 

\--

At eight months, Dean could really feel it. Peanut was a mini-sasquatch, so Dean showed a lot more than expected. And Peanut was damn active too, with all the kicking. All the fucking kicking. Honestly? He didn’t remember it hurting this much when a were had clawed his stomach. 

“Take after you papa don’t you, the two of you always causing me pain,” Dean fondly told his bump. 

But the worst thing wasn’t the internal bruising. The worst thing was the complete and utter bone-deep _exhaustion_. Since he’d fallen from the ladder, Dean hadn’t slept well. At all really, and every day was a struggle. He knew he was making mistakes at work, although he covered them as best he could. Benny and Cas hadn’t said anything, but he could _feel_ their concern. That morning Benny had ordered him to a table, setting him down with salad and tea. Salad! Dean had argued at first, wanted to be up and working. But Benny was adamant, and Dean sensible enough to realise he was a kitchen accident waiting to happen. Benny then cruelly ignoring his pleas for proper food or coffee… Ah, coffee. Coffee could have woken him up. Someone needed to do some research to show pregnant people could drink the fucking stuff. Lifeblood… 

Heaving himself off his chair, Dean called a cheery goodbye to Benny. 

“Cher?”

“Huh? Yeah, Benny?”

“Wanna take the pastries with you?”

Dean felt his face blush bright red. Some mistakes were harder than others to cover. Instead of blustering though, he just thanked Benny, before heading off to the bookshop. 

Benny watched him leave, a concerned look on his face. Ah well, Castiel would look out for him. Although… Benny glanced around the room. Maybe he would just clear the tables and then head off to check on him. 

The bell above the door jangled. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment. Take a seat and I’ll get you a menu.”

The response was terse. “I don’t want a menu. I want Dean.”

Benny took a deep breath and centred himself. He couldn’t start a fight without knowing what he was getting into. A second breath, and he turned to greet the… giant of a man. Tall and very well-muscled. Benny was not small. He generally felt that could handle himself. But this guy? Benny wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark alley.

Plastering a smile on his face, Benny greeted him. “And you must be _Sam_.”

\--

There was only one more box that needed unpacking. 

And it was sitting there taunting him. And while Castiel hadn’t said _don’t_ stack the shelves, it was understood that Dean just wouldn’t. But one box… One box wouldn’t hurt. And then he could feel like he achieved something for the day. A quick, shifty eyed look around, and Dean was up the ladder. It was slower than last time (had he really lost all of his fitness?) and it seemed higher than last time too. Dean blinked as the books in front of him slowly faded in and out. 

It hadn’t been his brightest idea. The books even agreed, calling to him as he fell. Again. 

\--

“Dean! Dean? Are you ok? Talk to me?”

Once again there were strong arms around him. He was comfortable. Warm. He didn’t hurt. His hands immediately crept to his belly, and to his delight Peanut gave a kick. Ok, baby was safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Dean?”

Ah Sam was still talking. No, not Sam. Dean had learnt his lesson. No use wishing for what wasn’t there. 

“Benny?”

Benny growled for some reason. Other Benny groaned. Why were there two?

Blinking to clear his eyes, Dean had to blink again as the Benny in front of him became…

“Sam?”

The arms around him tightened. 

“What… What are you doing here?”

Wrong response. Sam’s face tightened into bitch face 43 (( _I am so pissed off at you you have no idea_ ) with a hint of 18 ( _we are going to talk about this, Dean_ ). 

Great. 

Dean didn’t want to deal with either of those things. And he certainly didn’t want to be dealing with it lying on his back. He wriggled, attempting to get out of Sam’s arms. Sam just picked him up, carrying him across to the nearest reading chair. Instead of depositing Dean, like any normal person would, Sam kept a hold of Dean, sitting down before arranging Dean in his lap. 

“Sammy! Enough with the octopus arms!”

Sam’s expression was unimpressed. “You really think I’m letting go of you any time soon?”

Dean stilled. 

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure _what_ he thought. 

Sam used Dean’s silence to his advantage, pulling him in close. “Fuck, Dean! Why? Why didn’t you come like you said you would? I waited and I waited. I missed you so much…”

If Sam wasn’t crying, he was very close to it. Dean shifted, trying to dislodge his brother. But Sam’s hands were implacable. Dean sighed in frustration. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at all, let alone in public.

“Look, I get it, we need to talk. But I’m at work now. I just need to finish shelving the books and…”

“No!”

Three voices said the word.

Well, one said it. Two growled it. 

Sam and Benny looked ready to snap the other’s head off, while Cas just said it in his vague way, “That’s twice you’ve fainted on top of the ladder, so…”

“I _didn’t_ faint.” It seemed important to defend his masculinity. A hysterical giggle bubbled up through him. The pregnant man defending his masculinity. 

Sam, as always, the bastard, knew what was going through his head. 

“Having a baby - _our baby_ \- doesn’t make you any less of a man, Dean. In fact,” And Sam was all sincerity now, “I think it’s amazing. You… you heard some stuff that I didn’t mean. How you could think that I….”

Dean shoved his hands over Sam’s mouth and hissed at him. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

Sam’s mouth compressed in that line. “Fine. We’ll go back to your place. But we are having this conversation.”

Dean got ready to argue: work wasn’t over for the day. Sam couldn’t walk back in like he owned Dean’s life. That he was pregnant, not an invalid. But he didn’t get a chance to say anything, as Benny had things to say. 

“Now just a minute. You won’t be going back to Dean’s house until he says it’s ok. You can’t walk in like you own his life! You can talk in the café.”

It was very lucky for Benny that Sam had Dean in his arms. Sam had been feeling _angry_ for a while now, and he was very willing to take that out on the older man. 

Dean had other ideas. He wrenched himself out of Sam’s lap, wobbling slightly on his feet. As both Benny and Sam reached for him, he brushed their hands away. 

“Pregnant, not a fucking invalid. Benny,” Dean took a deep breath. “Thanks for worrying. I still don’t know how I feel about you calling Sam,” and he at least had the grace to look abashed, “But Sam is fine at my place. I don’t know how long his going to be here,” now Dean had to ignore Sam’s growl in the background, “but however long it is, he’ll stay with me.”

He held up his hands, forestalling any arguments. “I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions. Sam? You got a car?” At his brother’s nod, he turned to Cas. “I’m sorry Cas, I won’t be able to finish my shift today. Same time tomorrow?”

Castiel gave him that steady stare he had. “I was going to suggest maternity leave starting next week. It seems that starting it from tomorrow would be…”

Cas trailed off as Benny thumped him on the back. “Me too, cher. Come in for food, but as of now, time to look after the momma-to-be. And you,” Benny was back to growling. “Look after him and don’t hurt him again.”

Before Sam could get into an argument, Dean grabbed his bag. “Fine. I’ll drop in tomorrow anyway. See you later.”

Sam was at his back, a proprietorial hand on the small of Dean’s back, ushering him out. It was... equal parts annoying and wonderful. 

“My car’s this way.”

Sam steered him towards a little yellow Hyundai. Dean stopped dead in his tracks. 

“What the fuck is that, Sammy?”

“It’s just a hire care, Dean.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to get in that thing?”

Sam knew Dean was nervous. Dean got defensive when he was nervous. But Sam was pissed off. 

“You can get in the car yourself, or I will carry you to the car, before buckling you in. Which would you prefer?”

Sam wasn’t joking. Dean got in the car. 

“Still a piece of shit,” he muttered under his breath. 

\--

The house wasn’t far. They could have walked, but now all of Sam’s stuff was there as well. He grabbed his duffle, waiting for Dean, who struggled a little to get to his feet. Sam desperately wanted to help, but knew he had to wait. Dean hadn’t accepted him back into his life yet. He would. But Sam knew better than to push right now. He’d already waited months to hold Dean. A few more minutes weren’t going to matter. 

\--

Dean fumbled with the keys. Not only fumbled them, but dropped the fuckers. And he wasn’t so good at the bending. He felt tears of frustration flood his eyes. Hormones! Stupid fucking hormones. It wasn’t a big deal, and now that Sammy was back, well, that was more than enough girls in the relationship. 

Dean froze. Relationship. He… No. No. They didn’t. Before he started hyperventilating, Sam’s hand was back on his back, the keys had been rescued and door opened. Sam ushered him through. 

“Come on, Dean. I know it’s been a shock.” Dean was placed on the couch, then Sam went about the kitchen, making himself at home. He came back, with some of Benny’s pastries on a plate, and a glass of water. 

Dean looked at the water, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Wow, Sammy. You shouldn’t have.”

Sam calmly pulled up a chair, decided not to sit next to Dean. Yet. 

“I don’t know how you drink tea, and I’m not making you coffee. Drink the water so we can talk.”

But now that he was here… Sam didn’t know what to say, even where to start. Should he tell Dean how much he missed him? How not a single moment went by when Dean wasn’t on his mind. Or the way he thought his heart would break when Dean hadn’t turned up in October – like he said he would. Or how about how _angry_ he is, that Dean would run from him, instead of talking it out. He loves Dean. He fucking loves Dean, and Dean was willing to walk out on what they had. Have. On what they have. What about how scared he was? And still is. Scared he’d never see Dean again. Scared something had happened to him. And now scared about the baby, about what that means for them, as a family. How could Dean leave without telling him? Talking to him? Regardless of what Sam said, surely Dean knows he loves him? That, more than anything, hurt. 

And that’s what comes out first. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

Sam kept his eyes lowered, missing the blush that spread across Dean’s face. 

“Sammy…”

Dean starts and stops. He doesn’t know what to say either. He’s missed Sam. He’s missed Sam every single day, but he’d had no intention of destroying Sam’s life. No intention of dragging him into this, away from school and friends, and all the things he’d dreamed of. When Dean found out he was pregnant, he gave Sam his freedom. That was the only thing he could do. 

And now Sam was _here_ , sitting right in front of him. Sam came for him, leaving behind the life Dean gave him. Sam chose _Dean_. Dean felt a flutter of guilt for being glad that Sam was here. Words he’d kept at bay for so long attempted to rise to the surface: words of love, of longing, of how much I’ve missed you. They aren’t the words he speaks. 

“You don’t want kids. I… uh… what you said to dad. Saying how terrible you’d be, I’d be as parents. And…” Dean paused then shrugged. “And that was the day you left for Stanford.”

Silence settled over the pair. Although Sam desperately wanted to defend himself, he could still read his brother well enough to know Dean wasn’t finished. 

The silence continued for a few more moments. Dean fidgeted until the words burst from him.

“That was the day I found out I was pregnant.”

Even if he’d wanted to, Sam couldn’t have stopped himself from moving to the couch and scooping up his brother, wrapping him in his arms. 

 

“Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry…”

Dean struggled to sit up and get his own space back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have…”

Using his greater strength, Sam manoeuvred Dean onto his lap again, using his long reach to effectively trap his brother.

“Yes. You should have. You should have told me. I was angry, Dean. Angry at dad, angry at the world. And you _know_ I don’t mean the things I say when I’m angry. But even if I meant it… you should have told me. A baby… it doesn’t’ just affect you.”

Ok. That was a fair call. Sam had been intimately involved in Peanut’s creation. And while Sam was slow to anger, if anyone could push his buttons it was dad. Leading up to Sam’s departure hadn’t been an easy time. Sam and John had fought pretty much every day. Sam leaving had nothing to do with Dean, the timing was just wrong. 

“And Dad…” Sam sighed. He really didn’t want to think about John. He’d have a lot to say about this, but fuck him. He wasn’t even thinking about him til he and Dean were ok. “We’ll talk about dad later. He thought you were with me. He needs to know you’re ok.”

Sam felt dark satisfaction at finding Dean before dad did. It was only a little tainted by Benny.

Dean fidgeted. So much he wanted to ask. Was dad mad? What were they going to tell him? Was Sam going to stay? What did Sam want? What about Stanford? 

He was afraid of the answers though. 

Sam used his mind reading trick again. 

“I hated being at Stanford.”

Deans’ head shot up, and he twisted, so he could look Sam in the face. “What? It was your dream, Sammy!”

“My dream is being with you,“ Sam corrected. “Did I want to go to college? Sure. I wanted stability, and to make something of myself. Something that wasn’t hunting. But it was nothing without you. I missed you every fucking day. I tried. I tried studying, and meeting people, and going to parties…”

Dean stared at Sam. “Did you meet anyone?”

“Hmmm... I wonder.” Sam laughed as Dean scowled at him. “I wasn’t interested in anyone else, Dean. I’m still not. You’re the one for me, always have and always will be.”

And if that wasn’t disgustingly sappy, Dean didn’t know what was. 

“So are we good?”

Sam looked at him seriously. “No. Not yet. I’m still really pissed that you didn’t tell me about the baby. And not coming to Stanford when you _said_ you would.” Sam’s brow dropped. “And _running away_?” Dean tensed at the growl in Sam’s voice. “We’re not good yet. But we will be.”

Sam ran a critical eye over Dean. He’d been too full of emotion back at the bookstore to really check him out. He’d vaguely thought he looked tired, but now he had the time to look properly, that wasn’t quite true. He looked _exhausted_. “So. We still need to talk about it, but that can wait til after a nap.”

“What the hell, Sammy? You can’t come back and take over...”

Sam interrupted Dean’s diatribe with a firm kiss. “Yes I can. And I will. You obviously haven’t been looking after yourself, Dean.” Sam allowed his dimples to show. “And you heard your bosses. You’re on maternity leave. Looks like I came just at the right time. So first things first. A nap, then we’ll get you fed, and _then_ we can have that discussion.”

“I don’t want to,” Dean muttered at his brother. Sam ignored him, hoisting him into his arms, successfully finding his way to the bedroom. 

It was very Dean, Sam reflected. It was sparse, but welcoming. And dominated by the biggest bed he’d ever seen. Sam couldn’t help the tightening in his gut. 

“Bit big for one, Dean,” he remarked casually. 

Dean of course saw right through it. 

“There’s been no one else Sam. I haven’t wanted anyone.“ Sighing, Dean looked at the bed. It did look inviting. “Well, you’ve successfully dropped off your package, you can do… what the hell are you doing Sam?”

After dropping Dean on the bed, Sam was busily shucking off his clothes. When he was down to boxers, he moved forward, grabbing Dean, starting to strip off his layers. Dean still wore too many clothes. 

“We’re having a nap,” he told Dean calmly. 

This went as well as expected. Sam just shushed him. 

“I haven’t seen you in six months. You really think I’m letting you out of my sight?”

When Dean was down to boxers, Sam took his hand to drag him towards the bed. And stopped. He hadn’t really thought about the whole pregnancy thing. But here was Dean, his tummy swelling, full of their child. 

Fuck. Dean was carrying their baby. That was… 

He looked at Dean, gesturing towards the new curves. “Dean, can I…”

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. “Sure, go ahead, Sammy. “

Sam gently seated his brother on the edge of the bed, before sinking between Dean’s spread knees. He reverently laid a hand on the soft swell. Only to be kicked. He brought his hand back, as if stung, staring at the bump. 

“What the fuck?”

Den was smiling, looking at his belly. “Yeah, Peanut is fucking active. Kicks me all the time! I swear I have bruises on my bruises now!”

Staring at Dean with wide eyes, Sam had to ask, “Dean! Are you? Are you... what... what can I do?”

Dean turned the soft smile on Sam. “Peanut’s ok. I’m ok. “

Sam put his hand back, looking at the skin ripple, feeling the pressure against his hand. “Wow. He – she – what are we having Dean?”

 

Dean laughed. “Didn’t find out. Thought Peanut would let us know when they arrive.“ Dean grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that. He still had so much to organise, he hadn’t done anything yet, hadn’t organised the hospital, been to the pre natal clinic, he hadn’t even prepared the nursery, and he still had…

Sam’s mouth found his, hand rubbing soft circles across his belly. 

“It’s ok, Dean. I’m here now. You don’t have to do it by yourself. Peanut is _ours_. We’ll have a sleep,” and boy did Dean need one. As soon as he sat down he seemed to collapse in on himself, ”Then we’ll figure out what needs to be done.”

Dean nodded tiredly. He was pretty much at his limit for what he could deal with. It had been an emotional day “We’ll need to call Benny later. I normally go to the café for dinner, but I bet you don’t want to.”

Sam growled lowly. He realised he’d have to come to some understanding with the other man, but for now he ignored the issue, instead pulling Dean into his arms. Dean went easily enough, although he complained when Sam wrapped his arms around, and then – when it didn’t feel like enough – swung his legs over Dean. No way was he going _anywhere_ without Sam knowing!

“Uh... Sam. You don’t have to hold me so tight.”

Sam’s response was to hold him tighter. 

“Already lost you once, Dean. It’s not happening a second time.”

Sam settled down with a soft sigh, feeling his belly relax as Dean sank into his embrace. He had Dean back. They had a baby on the way. They were going to be a family. 

And Sam was never going to let them go.

**Author's Note:**

> definitely go check out [miss_melissa17](http://miss-melissa17.livejournal.com/)!


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